


The Muse is Wanting

by Akira_of_the_Twilight



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Apologies, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Magic, Monster Hunter Jaskier, Regret, Wraith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22786030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akira_of_the_Twilight/pseuds/Akira_of_the_Twilight
Summary: Kill the monster, collect your coin, and move on; that was how it was supposed to be for witchers, and for the last two years that's exactly how Geralt had live his life. He finally had his blessed peace.Then with just a laugh Jaskier tore it all down.In a tavern Jaskier enchants his audience with tales of swords and ladies. His lute has been replaced with a rapier at his hip. He has taken up the sword since last he and Geralt spoke. When he spots Geralt, it is as if their fight never happened. Geralt apologizes but is met with bafflement."You have me confused with someone else. I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 60
Kudos: 324





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt’s world slowed down to a single point as a familiar laugh that he had not heard in two years eclipsed the tavern’s raucous sounds. He breathed in the smells of the room. Laced within the stench of sweat, muck, and farm animals was the aroma of lavender oil. Beneath the floral scent was a stifled musk that Geralt was ashamed to have missed until then. 

Jaskier. 

“Are you buying or staring?” The barkeep demanded. Sweat lined her brow and peeked out from the armpits of her dress. The fire cooking stew behind her was most likely the cause of her perspiration. The cause of her irritation: no doubt a combination of the sweltering heat and having a witcher before her. 

“Ale,” Geralt answered. 

She huffed and turned her back on Geralt to rifle through the shelves under the counter. 

“And that is when this blushing, shy beauty turned so ravenous a succubus would be impressed. She flung herself at me. Before I could suck in a breath, I was well acquainted with her lovely, bouncing rosebuds.”

Men bellowed with laughter. Geralt peeked over his shoulder. 

Always a peacock in a room of hens, Jaskier stood in the center of a ring of men who slung back ales. His eyes were alight as he mimed the motions of his tale. 

No lute and no song—just a story. Geralt’s brow furrowed. Had the lute been lost in the past years? Stolen? 

Guilt roiled in Geralt. In his decades of life he’d seen numerous bodies left for dead on the road and looted. To think Jaskier may have come close to being one, it made him uneasy. He always knew it was a possible fate for the bard. After they had last seen each other there were some nights he’d think about the bard and envision Jaskier in the place of a corpse he’d ridden by hours before. 

The barkeep slammed a tankard of ale on the counter. She thrust her hand palm-up at Geralt. 

Geralt produced his pouch of coin and paid the woman. Once the coin was in her hand, the barkeep walked to the other side of the counter and pointedly turned her back on him. 

Not his coldest welcome, if he was being honest. 

“And so I thrust my sword into her scorching garden. She screamed in such a beastly manner as she dragged her claws down my back.” A pause. “Perhaps one of you handsome men would be interested in taking a look?”

There were fewer chuckles from the men. The sound of which echoed uncertainty in place of mirth. Another pause, but not for dramatic effect. 

Geralt tensed. He was familiar with that pause. It was the pause that came after Jaskier had enraptured his audience with epic tales of monster slaying and sex-hungry women then decided—for reasons that went beyond Geralt’s understanding of common sense—to reveal that he wasn’t just interested in plunging his so-called sword into the gardens of women. 

He understood the need for a man’s touch could be quite consuming some nights, but to sing about it to everyone with a pair of functioning ears was reckless. 

Geralt picked up his tankard and chugged down half of it. The burn was sweet and just what he needed before a brawl. He slammed the tankard down with more strength than needed. 

The patrons startled. He felt the eyes of the crowd of men turn on him. 

Geralt turned to face them. 

Curiosity and intriguing craned Jaskier’s body as he tried to catch a better glimpse of the person who had stolen his audience. 

Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. Once again time seemed to come to a standstill. He could feel the energy in the room changing as Jaskier’s audience took him in. There was discomfort, fear, and rage at the sight of him. Their emotions were nothing more than a pathetic, thin wisp of clouds trying to block out the vibrant sun.

Jaskier’s lips curled into a smile. If he had thought Jaskier’s eyes had been alight before he had been a fool. The joy and eagerness in Jaskier’s face was a balm to wound that Geralt had been carrying since the day he had yelled at Jaskier that it would be a blessing for destiny to take Jaskier off his hands. 

“Witcher!” One of the men shouted, breaking Geralt out of his trance.

Geralt looked at the man and cocked his head. 

Alcohol had already caused the man’s face to turn red. His anger had turned his face plum. 

“You’re kind are not welcomed here.” 

“I’ll remember should a wraith or werewolf attack your village.”

The man’s mouth moved, but the only thing that came out was drool and angry spittle. One of the man’s neighbors placed a hand on the plum man’s shoulder and guided him to sit. Scowls and sneers were cast at Geralt, but the men still had enough of their wits to know that they were outmatched. 

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier purred. His attempt at what Geralt assumed was a seductive tone was marred by the excitement in his voice. 

A warmth spread through Geralt’s chest. It took tremendous willpower to not smile at his friend; he had to maintain an air of intimidation around those who showed him such prejudice. 

“Rumors do not do your looks justice.” Jaskier sauntered over to Geralt, stopping just a pace short of Geralt. He leaned against the tavern’s support beam. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head in a way that he did when courting. All that was missing were the battering eyelashes. 

It was not the first time Jaskier had flirted with Geralt; Geralt hoped it would not be the last. 

Geralt took advantage of the moment and eyed Jaskier up. His scrutiny stopped short when his eyes landed on the sheathed rapier tied to Jaskier’s belt. 

Jaskier would have needed to learn how to fend for himself, Geralt told himself. 

It was difficult to picture Jaskier fighting anyone with a rapier. He was more the type to punch then run when his enemy proved stronger than him. 

“Ah. The strong silent type, I see.” Jaskier winked. “Certainly you can spare a few words for a man with a hunt.” 

“You’re commissioning me?” 

“Not so much me, but one of the villagers.” Jaskier nodded to a table by the window. “Come, sit down. I’ll buy you another ale.” 

“Sure.” Geralt grunted. He picked up his tankard and walked over to the table as Jaskier waved down the barkeep. 

Geralt downed the rest of his first tankard as he waited. He’d set the tankard aside when Jaskier arrived with two more tankards. Jaskier passed one off to Geralt as he took the seat across from Geralt.

“I was surprised you reacted so well to seeing me. It makes sense now.” Geralt started in on his second tankard of ale.

“I would have been very pleased to see you with or without this commission. I have so many questions, and that rugged appearance makes it hard to stay away.” Jaskier shifted in his seat, wiggling his hips to get better access to his trousers’ pockets. He whipped out a folded piece of parchment. “I found this on the town’s board. You witchers must have a sixth sense about these things. From what I have gathered from the man who posted this, the ‘devil’ seen by the well he mentions is a wraith.”

Jaskier splayed his hand over his heart. “I’ve dealt with monsters, but wraiths are not my strong suit. However, I’ve already done the legwork: I’ve talked with the commissioner, I’ve scouted the location, and I even have some information on who our wraith is. I deserve payment, but I can’t get it until the wraith is slain.

“I know you witchers have oils for your swords and few magic tricks for dealing with wraiths. I can purchase an oil off you or you can slay the wraith and we can split the coin evenly.” 

“You are not fighting a wraith.” 

“Then you will help me.” Jaskier slapped his hand on the table and smiled as if Geralt had agreed to his deal. He held out his hand for Geralt to shake. 

Geralt frowned. A sense of wrongness gnawed at him. “Have you taken up monster hunting?” 

Jaskier was strong of spirit, knowledgeable, and witty with his words. His determination could get him through almost anything. However, his physical strength was lacking for monster hunting as well as his patience. 

Jaskier puffed up his chest. He shifted once again to show off the rapier at his hip. He patted the rapier’s hilt. “What can I say? I am a natural. I can even show you sometime. Perhaps during a hot summer day and by the river? We can take off our tops and swing our swords together.” Jaskier shrugged. “Or perhaps a few drowners will appear and we will team up. Personally, I find one of those options more enjoyable.” 

“I suppose it is good that you can fend for yourself.” The anchor in Geralt’s gut said otherwise. He’d spent the last two decades protecting Jaskier when they came across danger. It was one of the many ways Jaskier needed him, and that had felt good. Geralt loathed admitting such a feeling, especially when he’d always been against people needing him, but Jaskier had burrowed his way into Geralt’s life and planted a seed that to this day Geralt was torn about. 

“It’s a way to make a living.” Jaskier extended his hand to Geralt again. 

Geralt stared at the hand. “You do whatever I say. That means if I tell you to run, you run.” 

“Deal.” Jaskier pushed himself up and strew his upper half across the table, invading Geralt’s space as he always did. He shoved his hand in Geralt’s face.

It was obnoxious and so painfully Jaskier that Geralt found himself missing Jaskier’s presence while being annoyed by it. 

Geralt accepted Jaskier’s hand. 

"Excellent." Jaskier squeezed Geralt's hand then quickly released it. He slid back into his seat. He picked up his tankard and took a hearty swig. "Drinks then adventure then payment then more drinks." Jaskier held his tankard up to cheer.

Geralt scoffed but he found himself raising his tankard to meet Jaskier's. Their drinks clinked and they guzzled a mouthful each. 

They enjoyed their drinks, much to the chagrin of the men who had once been Jaskier's audience. A couple of the men left the tavern with sour looks thrown at Geralt and Jaskier. 

Geralt finished off his second tankard of ale. He could hear the ale sloshing around Jaskier's tankard and knew the bard had plenty more to drink. 

Geralt studied Jaskier. Jaskier hummed as he drank. He angled himself so as to watch the tavern's patrons. There was something much more subdued about Jaskier. Geralt blamed it on the lack of conversation. Usually after time apart Jaskier pounced on Geralt and told him about all of his travels while pleading for Geralt to share tales of his own. 

Even if Jaskier had forgiven him for his cruel words from years ago, Geralt suspected Jaskier's quietness was due to their fight. 

"I'm sorry," Geralt said.

Jaskier's hum swung upward on the note as he turned his attention to Geralt. "Pardon?"

Geralt gritted his teeth. Was Jaskier really going to make him say it again? He supposed there were worse things Jaskier could demand of him. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

“For what I said on the mountain. I was an ass.”

“Mountain?” A crease appeared between Jaskier’s brows. The wrinkle was soon smoothed out by excitement and curiosity. “Have you mistaken me for someone else? I’m flattered and also intrigued. How were you an ass to my doppelganger? Oh! Unless it was a doppler.”

Geralt tensed. 

A doppler. Could it be?

He took Jaskier in once again, but this time he wasn't scanning his friend to reacquaint himself with Jaskier's appearance. From his heartbeat to his smell to the way he looked and moved Geralt's senses picked Jaskier apart like an enemy.

Jaskier's build was slightly different, but those differences stemmed from added muscles. He was more toned. His heartbeat and the way he breathed sounded the same. Jaskier's natural earthy and salty musk was the same too.

Geralt gave a short, pensive hum.

Jaskier snickered. He reached across the table and patted Geralt’s hand. “No worries. Even if it was a doppler, they like to help people. I’m sure it was just someone who looked like me though.”

Voice the same. His touch was the same too. The things Jaskier said though… Geralt replayed their conversation in his mind.

Jaskier titled his head back and finished off his ale. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He then reached under the table and produced his travel bag. "It will take a while to get to the well. We might want to grab some bread for the road."

"What happened to your lute?" 

Jaskier's brow pinched. "How did-"

Jaskier shook his head. He smothered his bemusement with a cocky smile as he lounged against the wall. "I shouldn't be surprised. I may not have the epic reputation of a witcher, but my family name and skills have surely caused people to take note of this humble monster slayer."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Jaskier frowned. "I sold it."

Three words and Geralt might as well have been stabbed in the gut by a kikimora. 

Jaskier would sooner die than leave behind his lute. 

"You’re not Jaskier."

The being wearing Jaskier's face pursed its lips in befuddlement. "I told you that you have me confused with someone else. I'm Julian Alfred Pankratz."


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt wrestled with his impulses. Questions flooded him, but he couldn't let himself get swept away by the doubts they brought. 

_ This is a hunt _ , he told himself. Like with any hunt he had to be an observer. He had to follow the trail of clues to the answers he sought. That meant going along with this Julian's claim.

Geralt relaxed. "Don't I feel like an idiot."

"You should. This is a one of a kind face here." Julian waved at his head. "I'll forgive you though." Julian winked.

Julian stood. He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Best be going if we want to reach the well before night fall."

Geralt nodded and rose.

Julian puffed out his chest and pumped his fists at his side as he led Geralt out of the tavern. 

A crooked fence encircled the tavern. Horses were tied to the posts, including Roach. She nibbled on the blades of grass near her hooves.

"It's a little ways south from here." Julian strolled past the fence and out the yard. He didn’t look back so he missed Geralt diverging from his path and heading toward Roach. "There are a few well traveled paths we could take or we can cut through the fields." Julian nattered on oblivious to Geralt staying behind to untie Roach's reigns from the post. 

The chestnut mare headbutted Geralt's shoulder, earning a gentle stroke to the neck from Geralt.

"We'll have to be on the lookout for wild dogs and wolves. They're notorious around here. Nasty beasts too. Especially in packs. One almost bit me on the rump once when I was distracted by one of its mates. Geralt? Geralt!"

Geralt swung himself onto Roach's back and gave her light kick to get her moving. She plodded through the throng of people as Geralt guided her toward Julian.

Julian's head swiveled like a top as he worriedly searched for Geralt amongst the crowd. When his eyes landed on Geralt his shoulders slouched and a smile stretched across his face. 

“Who is this beautiful girl?” Julian reached for Roach’s snout as she and Geralt neared. He tucked one hand under his chin as the other petted her muzzle.

“Roach.”

Roach snorted. She shook her head, whipping Julian’s face with her mane. 

Julian laughed. “She’s wonderful. I sure would love to ride her.”

“Only I ride Roach.” 

Julian nodded. He patted her neck. “Can’t say I blame you for being possessive. I would keep her to myself too if I were you.” Julian leaned in close to Roach’s ear and lowered his voice as if telling her a secret. “You’ll have to make do with my walking pace.” 

With a final pat, Julian took a step back, pivoted, and strode away. “This way.” He waved for Geralt and Roach to follow. 

“So do you prefer the safety of the road or the speed of cutting through fields, witcher?”

The word “witcher” gave Geralt pause. He did not recall a time Jaskier had addressed him as such outside of playful banter or song. It was odd to have someone who looked like Jaskier speak to him so. 

“Well?” Julian pressed. 

“Just keep an eye out for those wild dogs. I won’t be the one to rub chamomile on your bottom if you get bit.” 

Julian steered himself off the road and toward the field. “Really, Geralt? My arse is a lovely specimen. You should be begging to see it.”

_ I already have _ , Geralt was tempted to say, except this wasn’t Jaskier in front of him. He had no idea if he had seen Julian’s arse or not. 

Silence stretched between Julian and himself. The same unease he had felt when Julian had addressed him as witcher returned. The mix of the familiar with the unfamiliar was becoming quite the annoyance. 

“How long have you been monster hunting?” Geralt asked. 

“Taking an interest in me?” Julian stretched his arms up and over his head. He interlaced his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the blue sky. “I suppose more than a year—less than two.” 

Julian didn’t volunteer anymore information. 

Geralt frowned. 

Roach clomped along beside Julian. The village grew distant behind them as the rocky, green hills neared. Geralt heard the rush of a river coming from the direction of the hill as well as the prancing steps of deer. He made a mental note of the potential hunting ground. 

“Why monster hunting?”

“Like I said: I am a natural.”

“No one is a natural.” 

“I also said it took me some practice to build up my swordsmanship.”

“Hunting monsters is more than just knowing how to use a sword.” 

“But it does help,” Julian chimed. 

Geralt grunted. 

Julian took them northeast, skirting the base of the hill until sounds of the deer had faded and they had connected with a dirt path. The path sent them north and up the hill. The sound of rushing water grew in volume. The field’s yellow grass was replaced with the greenery of brush and trees. 

They soon greeted the river and its broken bridge. At the bridge, Julian veered east. They followed the water for a bit. The green of the forest faded as the tall yellow grass took its place. 

The ground rose and where it plateaued towered the wooden beams of a protective wall. Thatched roofs pecked over the wall as the smell of rot and death permeated the vicinity. 

Geralt pulled on the reigns, halting Roach.

Julian stopped. He peered over his shoulder. His eyebrow rose in intrigue. 

Geralt slid off Roach's back. He led her to a tree with a low branch and tied her reigns around the branch. He headed toward the walled off village. His elbow brushed Julian's chest as he passed by. "Stay behind me."

Julian nodded. He slid his bag off his shoulder and set it beside Roach. His hand went to the hilt at his hip. 

Trepidation and irritation wiggled between Geralt’s shoulder blades. He did not like having an unknown like Julian at his back. Also, if he were to believe Julian wasn't going to put that rapier between his shoulders, then that meant the man was preparing to join Geralt in fighting the wraith. 

"Stay out of the fight.”

Julian's gaze slid to Geralt. It was just a second, but that was all Geralt needed to know he was being assessed. 

Geralt grunted. He picked up his pace, nearing the entry point in the wall. He stopped at the entrance. 

The village had five homes. All of them were roughly the same shape and size. They formed a ring and at the center of the village was the well. The well was aged and still in good shape, if one ignored the claw marks along the beams. 

Fresh footprints on the ground led into every house and around the well. The footprints near the homes were well defined, but the ones near the well we're a mess. They overlapped with each other, making the person's path hard to follow; they'd been running. 

Geralt turned on Julian. 

Julian startled. "Yes?"

Geralt sucked in air through his nose. No doubt. The scent was faint, but he recognized it. "You've been here before. Entered every house too."

"How else was I supposed to get any information?"

"And what information did you get?"

"A few love letters—rather banal, by the way. For someone declaring their undying love, I expected more passion. There were a few journal pages dictating tales of a violent baron who didn't approve of his sister marrying a common man. Sister ran off with the man anyway. They had a few good months together—formed this village here with the man's family. Brother wrote to her that he was sorry for pushing her away and wished to see her. Last journal entry the woman was excited to reunite with her brother."

Geralt gazed at the village again. Decaying human bones lay scattered about. "I take it the reunion didn’t go well."

Julian snorted. "I can't imagine why."

Geralt soaked in the information, turning it over in his head. He hummed and pressed on toward the well. He kept his senses alert as he neared, anticipating an attack from the wraith. 

He stopped within reach of the well and examined the rope that dropped down into the dark depths of the well. 

"You saw the wraith, didn't you?" Geraltr asked; he already knew the answer though. 

"You go poking your head down one well, and suddenly a wraith wants to murder you. I swear! Death must make us rude."

"Death makes us dead. You’re lucky the damn thing didn't kill you." Geralt reached out and touched the rope.

Julian hissed. 

Geralt turned. The idiot was just steps behind him with his hand thrust out to stop Geralt. 

Geralt deadpan stared. 

Julian sheepishly lowered his hand. A light dust of pink speckled his cheeks. "The wraith attacked after I touched it."

Geralt grunted. He grabbed the rope. Just by holding it he could tell something weighed it down. He gave it a wiggled and heard the clatter of old bones. Geralt gritted his teeth. "Brace yourself. I may bring down the creature's rage."

Geralt added his other hand to the rope. Hand over hand pulled the rope up. The filthy skull emerged first from the well, followed by the victim’s neck where the rope was tied. Next came the body which was missing an arm and a few ribs.The flesh had mostly deteriorated but a few scraps clung to the skeleton. 

Geralt heaved the body onto the ground. 

He crouched by the corpse and examined the remains. "Female by the looks of it. Young but not a child. Damage to the neck and spine."

"So she died quickly."

Geralt shook his head. 

Julian grimaced. 

"We'll need to burn the body and anything that the spirit might be clinging on to."

"You can't just slash at it?" Julian gestured to the swords on Geralt's back. "What good is that oil and magic witchers use then?"

A plaintive screech pierced the air. 

Geralt seized the hilt of his silver sword. He shifted his stance as he drew the blade in front of him.

Julian pressed himself close to Geralt. The heat of his body permeated through his clothes. He mimicked Geralt in drawing his sword. 

Silence.

A flash of green mist to his right appeared in the corner of Geralt's eye. It disappeared just as quickly. 

"Geralt…" Apprehension coated Julian's tone. He had turned his head to where the light had appeared.

Geralt shifted to holding his blade one-handed. His free hand he held at the ready. 

The green mist burst forth in front of him. 

A ghastly shriek filled Geralt's ears.

Ghostly claws slammed toward his chest. Geralt thrust his sword up to parry. He grunted as his sword arm took the brunt of the attack. At his side, his empty hand moved swiftly. It drew the rune Yrden in the air. 

Just as quickly as the wraith attacked, the green haze began to fade and retreat. 

The ground lit up with purple sigils that cast a ring around Geralt; it was the power of Yrden. 

Caught in Yrden's circle the wraith was forced to take shape. Her hair was ashen and in snarls. Her dress was in tatters. What human features she once had were reduced to a mockery of the corpse she had become. Yet a human part remained: her eyes. Her eyes looked at Geralt with a hatred that burned deep. 

Geralt slashed his sword across her being. 

She screamed. Her body jerked forward from the blow. She moved to escape the circle, but she was hampered by the circle's power. 

Another swing. Another slash. Each blow earned a cry. Her wrath would be brutal once the circle faded and she escaped. 

She would have to heal and regain her strength though. That should give Geralt time to burn her remains and anything that could keep her bound to the earth. Once he did that she would never be able to recover from the blows of his sword. 

The purple ring flickered then vanished. 

The woman burst into a green cloud and retreated through the village's wall. 

Geralt kept his guard up until he knew for certain that the wraith had abandoned them for the time being. 

Geralt relaxed and sheathed his sword. 

Applause startled him.

Julian clapped his hands and beamed at Geralt. "Okay. I get it now. Very impressive."

Geralt pushed past Julian and headed toward the closest house. "We need to determine who she was in the village."

"Hello? Did you not hear me before? She is the sister!" 

"And do you know this for certain or do you believe it because it makes a good story in your head?" The door to the closest house hung off its hinges and so Geralt strolled into the vacant home without preamble. 

Julian scoffed. "Excuse you. I do my research, I'll have you know."

_ Yes, but if you are Jaskier then you have no qualms picking a good story over the truth _ . Except the man was saying he was Julian. Julian Alfred Pankratz: Jaskier's real name. 

Geralt took a subtle breath.  _ The truth will reveal itself _ , Geralt reminded himself. He refocused on what was in front of him.

A table was overturned and ransacked sacks lay discarded on the ground. Dried herbs hung between the divide of the kitchen and the sleeping quarters. A trail of dried blood led from the door to the bed. 

The floorboards creaked behind him. 

Geralt sighed in frustration and faced Julian. The man was pouting and had his arm crossed petulantly across his chest. 

"If it is the sister, is there anything she mentioned of importance to her in the journal?" Geralt maneuvered around Julian and exited the home. He strode over to the house on the left.

"Oh! Let me go reread it. I left it in my bag."

Geralt paused. "Fuck."

"What’s wrong?" Julian was wide-eyed and doe like with his innocent curiosity.

It irked Geralt all the more. "You should not be hunting monsters. If the sister is the wraith, her journal could be tying her to this world. By taking it, you've left yourself vulnerable to a haunting or curse."

"I told you: wraiths aren't my specialty. Give me a downer or a ghoul."

Geralt's heart stopped at the thought. A ghoul's bite could instantly kill a human. "Go get the journal."

Geralt entered the second house and scoped it out. 

"Not everyone can be perfect, Geralt," Julian hollered as he headed back to Roach and his bag. 

As Geralt checked each house, he found them all to be in a similar state as the first. The details differed, but it was clear that everyone had been forcibly removed from their homes. The problem lay in figuring out which one the wraith had lived in. The attack on the village was years ago. There was no scent trail and the elements had long since erased any tracks in the dirt. 

Geralt's gut churned. Even with the aid of the journal, he knew he was going to have to take a more thorough measure. 

"She mostly talks about her husband and the hardship and joy that came with starting a village of their own," Julian said as Geralt emerged from the final house. 

Julian lounged against the well. He flipped through the discolored pages of the journal. "She mentioned making a doll for her niece. She mentions it a few times and how happy she was the girl liked it."

"Then we must be sure to find the doll. For now we'll be removing everything from the houses and burning them."

Julian straightened. "Everything? That will take the rest of the day."

"Good. We will have a fire by evening." Geralt smirked. "A hunter such as you will love camping under the stars and the green fog of the vengeful dead.”


	3. Chapter 3

"This is the last of it." Julian grunted as he yanked on the handle of a wood chest. The chest was caught on the house's door frame. 

The sun was low overhead and the sky had taken on tones of pink and purple. Night was at their heels and would soon overtake them. 

Julian huffed. He gave the chest another tug, but it refused to budge. 

Geralt refrained from rolling his eyes despite the urge to do so. 

Geralt strode away from the pile of junk they had collected in the center of the village and headed to Julian. He set his hand on Julian's arm. The man paused in his movements. Geralt took advantage of the situation to gently push Julian away. 

Julian stepped aside and Geralt took his place. He grabbed the handle. With one yank he pulled the chest out from the home. Another tug and he hoisted it up and over his shoulder as if it were sack.

Julian whistled appreciatively. 

"This chest is not that heavy." Geralt hauled the chest over to the pile. 

"Showing off? I don't mind. I'd flaunt that witcher strength too if I had it."

"One doesn't need witcher strength to carry this." Geralt set the chest on top of the pile. With the chest added to it, the pile of junk reached above Geralt's waist. Plates, pots, handkerchief and more items embraced each other in the pile. "I'm starting to wonder if this isn't the first time you have asked someone else to help you on a hunt. Perhaps you make a habit of finding someone to complete the physical end of your commissions."

"You really doubt I hunt monsters, don't you?" Julian frowned. After a moment, he nodded to himself. "All right. We will just have to go on another hunt together."

Geralt hummed low. It was better to fight monsters alone; however, should their current hunt run smoothly, his remaining time with Julian would be limited. He wanted to keep the man nearby until he solved the mystery that was Julian. 

Julian huffed. He smacked Geralt on the shoulder. "Come on now. Use your words."

"Should we survive this evening and you not drive me mad then I will consider it."

Julian lit up. "Really?"

Geralt grunted.

Julian scoffed and slapped Geralt's shoulder again. "What did I just say about using your words?"

Geralt glowered at Julian. "Hit me again, I dare you."

Julian threw up his hands defensively. "I yield. No more undue violence to the witcher."

Geralt hummed.

Julian smiled. "I might enjoy learning how to speak grunts and hums. It will be like Oxenfurt all over again, but with fewer students and more monsters. Did you know that they've had a few monsters in the forest behind the school? I never did see the monsters though. I always wondered if they were just stories to keep the students from wandering out at night. We should visit and see for ourselves."

"I'm starting to miss the silence. How well have you memorized the journal?"

Julian didn’t answer.

Geralt quirks an eyebrow at him.

Julian cocked his head. "Oh sorry. Was I supposed to answer? I thought you missed the silence."

"Smartass."

Julian grinned. He picked the journal up from the edge of the well where he had left it. "I can't say I can quote it, but I can recall most of the contents."

"Good. Add it to the pile."

Julian's jaw dropped. "But, Geralt, the information-"

"Is now in your head. All the journal will do is act as an attachment for the wraith."

Julian pouted. He stared at the worn journal in his hands. He stroked the cover as if it were the last memento of his lover. “Stories are such precious things.” Sorrow tainted the vibrant energy that he cloaked himself in. 

Julian exhaled and tossed the book onto the pile. “Hers will just have to live on through me.” 

Geralt eyed the pile, his gaze drifting to the straw doll that sat at the base of the heap. While he'd cleared out the houses, the moment Geralt had found the doll he'd been quick to add it to the heap. He had made sure that no matter how tall or wide the pile grew the doll was easy to see. 

Behind the doll lay the head of the corpse. The wraith's remains were buried under the forgotten items off the villagers. 

Geralt raised his hand and traced the sign for Igni in the air. 

Flames burst forth from the base of the pile.

Julian jumped back with a gasp. As quickly as he retreated, Julian reclaimed his steps and circled the fire. “They teach you quite a few tricks at witcher school, don’t they?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“‘Tricks’ or ‘school’?”

“Both.”

The flames grew in height and spread. They licked at each item then slowly devoured them. The fire turned fat in its greed. Gray smoke rose into the dusk sky that had lost all of its pink and turned into soft lavender.

An agonized scream echoed in the village. 

Geralt drew his silver sword. The scream was a promising indicator. Somewhere in that pile they had managed to find something the wraith was tied to and now the wraith would come to finish the fight they had started. 

Julian pressed his back against Geralt’s.

Shock rippled through Geralt’s spine. “What did I say about staying out of this?”

“Just use that witcher magic.” Julian unsheathed his rapier.

Geralt opened his mouth then slammed it shut as the green smoke barreled toward their flanks. “Fuck.” Geralt spun. Julian followed Geralt’s movements as if their backs were glued. 

Geralt thrust up his hand and drew Yrden in the air. 

The smoke dived toward the ground and disappeared before Yrden finished casting. 

Geralt grit his teeth. The ground lit up with purple sigils, but the specter was nowhere in sight. He shifted his weight and focused on the feel of the dirt beneath his boots as he listened for movement. He internally cursed that despite his efforts a portion of his focus remained on Julian. He could feel the tension between Julian’s blades where their backs pressed as well as detect that Julian’s heartbeat and breathing had quickened.

The shadows cast by the fire danced tauntingly as Geralt waited for the wraith to reappear.

The purple sigils disappeared. 

Julian’s heartbeat stuttered as he sharply inhaled. 

Geralt whirled as his fingers dashed to redraw Yrden.

The wraith had pounced, hovering overhead. Its fingernails had transformed into hideous claws that threatened to slice a man in half with one swipe. 

Geralt felt his own heart give a jolt as he turned to see her claws aimed at Julian’s throat. Geralt swung his blade wide, aiming to slam his elbow into Julian and knock him out of the way while blocking the wraith’s attack. 

Julian twirled with unfamiliar grace out the wraith’s path. Geralt’s elbow brushed air. 

Geralt’s blade and the wraith’s claws clashed in a clumsy match that left Geralt’s footing off. He gritted his teeth and finished drawing Yrden. 

The wraith roared in his face. Her ghostly form tried to break apart into green smoke only to ram together as Yrden took effect. She roared again. She threw open her maw and thrust her teeth at Geralt’s neck. 

Geralt yielded against her weight and flung himself aside, letting her trip forward. 

Julian rammed the rapier through her back. 

She howled. 

Julian jerked his sword out from her just as she spun on him. Her murderous gaze locked onto Julian. 

Geralt cleaved her head off her neck with one swipe. 

Her head hit the dirt and rolled. Her tousled hair fell over her face, but even through her disheveled mane her deadeyes peered. Cracks split her cheeks and nose like a shattered mirror. The cracks spread until her head collapsed like a hill of sand as it turned to dust. 

Geralt kept his sword at the ready as the body hovered in the wind. It remained motionless without its head. Geralt raised his sword above his head and swung downward on the body, cutting it in half. 

The body landed on the ground like its head had. Then just like its head, cracks spiderwebbed through it until it could no longer hold itself together and it became ash. 

Julian sighed in relief. He placed a hand over his heart. “You know, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” 

Geralt sheathed his sword as Yrden’s purple sigils flickered then vanished. “Watch the fire. Make sure it doesn’t go out of control.” 

Julian straightened and saluted Geralt like a soldier. “Yes, sir, Mr. Witcher, sir.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes. He headed out of the village and just a little ways down the path where he had tied Roach. 

Roach huffed and shook her head at his approach. She tugged on her reigns. 

“I know.” Geralt placed his hand on her flank when he neared. He reached for the reigns and with one hand undid the knot tying her to the tree. “I wouldn’t be thrilled either.” He bent and scooped up Julian's bag off the ground. 

He strolled back into the village, Roach following behind him. 

Julian fanned himself while tugging on his collar. He took a step back from the blaze. "We certainly won't be cold tonight."

Geralt shoved Julian's bag into his unsuspecting arms. Julian startled and fumbled to keep his hold on the bag. He clutched the bag to his chest as Geralt searched through Roach's saddlebags for a vial. 

"Right. Thank you for returning this to me," Julian said. 

Geralt fished out two vials. 

"Did I do something wrong?"

 _Besides getting involved?_ Geralt sighed. He strode over to where the wraith's head had crumbled into dust.

He unplugged the first vial with a _pop_! He picked up a handful of the remains and poured them into the vial. "I'm trying to make sure we get paid. People want proof their monsters are gone. Wraiths and other specters can be the worst to prove. Sometimes you get lucky and something of the specter remains intact. Other times…" Geralt picked up another handful of ash and filled the vial with it. 

Julian grimaced. "That is unfair."

Geralt shrugged as he plugged the vial. "Then you have been fortunate to have people who treat you fair." He pocketed the first vial then opened the second. "Specter dust can be useful for alchemy. You can make some of those oils you mentioned with it."

Geralt reached for another fistful of dust.

Julian huffed and strode to Geralt's side. The action gave Geralt pause. Julian squatted beside Geralt and hugged his knees to his chest. "Geralt, you sound like a woman worn down by her husband's constant abuse."

Geralt snorted. "You need to work on your metaphors." He filled the second vial and plugged it as he had the first. Once he pocketed it, he stood. 

Julian frowned at Geralt. His brow had furrowed and creases had gathered around the edges of his mouth. 

He looked genuinely concerned and it was a punch to the gut. It was as if Jaskier was there with Geralt. 

Geralt could see it in his mind, Jaskier worried and fretting over him for no good reason then turning irritated as he complained about whatever he believed was causing Geralt trouble. That had for years been the case between them—especially in regards to Yennefer. 

Geralt waited, anticipating the moment Julian's worry turned to indignation on Geralt's behalf. 

Julia sighed and rose. "Perhaps you're right."

Disappointment panged in Geralt's chest. "You should get some rest. Use one of the beds. I'll tend to the fire."

"The beds? In the houses?" Julian looked over his shoulder at the closest one. "But...wouldn't you like some company?"

Geralt crossed his arms over his chest. "Scared to sleep in a dead person's bed?"

Julian started to shake his head, but stopped. Suddenly he was nodding his head like he wanted to snap it off. "It's so macabre. I couldn't possibly."

"You only get so many opportunities to sleep on a bed when you're a monster hunter," Geralt cautioned. 

Julian waved off Geralt's comment. "I can drag the mattress outside. In fact, I'll go now." Julian pivoted and took off. 

Geralt watched Julian go. He waited until Julian had disappeared into the home then huffed. "You’re still sleeping on a dead person's mattress."

Perhaps Julian preferred to sleep with company? That had been the case with Jaskier.

He could still remember the annoyance he'd felt those first nights he'd traveled with Jaskier and Jaskier had insisted on sleeping close by. It took some time, but after a while, Geralt had come to appreciate Jaskier's presence. He'd never admit it to Jaskier—the fool would never let him live it down—but he found Jaskier's breathing and occasional snores to be soothing. He didn't even mind waking up to find Jaskier entwined around him.

He could live without the drool on his chest or shoulders though.

Julian grunted as he heaved the cumbersome straw mattress through the house's door frame. 

Geralt let Julian wrestle the mattress over to him; if Julian insisted on bringing the mattress outside then he was going to have to carry it.

Julian dropped the mattress on the ground at Geralt's feet. Julian grinned from ear to ear then pounced on the mattress. He rolled around on it like a cat. "Ah, yes, perfect." He sprawled on his back and stared up at Geralt. "Care to join me?"

Geralt considered the offer. He kneeled on the mattress, taking on his meditation pose. 

Julian shuffled closer, resting his chin on Geralt's knee. "Is that all? No desire to keep each other warm?"

"Have you always come on to men so strong?"

Julian's shoulder blades sprang together. Tension tied his body in knots, but he kept his smile in place. "Not always, and not just men. I'm a lover of ladies and more as well."

"What changed? Why come on strong when so many would see you as..." Geralt didn’t want to say the word 

"An abomination," Julian completed.

Geralt nodded.

Julian relaxed. His shoulder blades kept close but they no longer clung together like frightened children. "There comes a point when you realize life is passing you by and you don't want to spend time wasting it tiptoeing around everyone." 

Geralt mulled over Julian’s words. 

Julian pushed himself up and onto his knees. He met Geralt's gaze steadily. "I'm attracted to you, and I'm not one to silence my thoughts. If we hunt together I will be unable to resist complimenting your appearance or swooning over you from time to time. Will that bother you?”

The answer to Julian’s question was far more complicated than Geralt would like to admit. He enjoyed Jaskier’s flirting and small forms of physical affection, even if he at times voiced the opposite. Julian was still an unknown though. 

“That will depend on what you do. I most likely won’t care.” 

“Oh?” A playful note entered Julian’s voice. “And what would you mind?”

“Just use common sense. If you wouldn’t say or do it to a woman, don’t do it to me.” 

Julian made a show of thinking over Geralt’s words. “Fair enough. Although I have been told I'm quite lecherous with the ladies."

"And I have two swords and decades’ worth of experience killing monsters and men."

"Is that a threat? Because that’s more of a turn on." Julian fluttered his lashes and blew Geralt a kiss.

Geralt seized the back of Julian’s head and shoved him down onto the mattress. Julian's head hit the mattress and his heart gave a jolt. Shock knocked the breath out of Julian’s lungs.

"Go to sleep," Geralt commanded.

"Make me."

Geralt lifted one eyebrow. 

Julian smirked.

Geralt's fingers were already laced through Julian’s short, brown strands from pushing him down before. With a simple tug, he forced Julian to turn his head away from him. "All right."

Julian jerked. He tried to raise his head but Geralt kept it pinned in place. 

"No fair."

"You complain a lot about what isn't fair."

Julian huffed. He crossed his arms and hugged his chest. "You’re lucky I have a weakness for good looking and powerful men."

"Sleep."

Julian waved his hand flippantly at Geralt. "Fine." He took a deep breath then exhaled. His body relaxed. 

Geralt kept his hand in Julian’s hair. His attention flickered between Julian and the blaze meters away from them. He shouldn't allow Julian to distract him so easily. Burning the forest would not be the way to earn the villagers' coin. 

The fire crackled. Its heat made blankets unnecessary through the cold, dark night. When the flames inched away from the smoldering heap of junk, Geralt stood and used the magic of Aard to push the flames back. 

Geralt rejoined Julian on the mattress. As Geralt's knees hit the mat, Julian rolled over in his sleep. He flung his arm across Geralt's thigh and nuzzled his face against Geralt’s hip. 

Geralt sighed. His chest ached for Jaskier as his nerves pricked with discontent and confusion. 

It would be so much easier if he knew who or what Julian was. 

Perhaps he was too soft, but his gut told him that Julian was Jaskier. 

As long as a part of him believed that, Geralt wasn't confident he could be objective about Julian. 

He had few options left then. One way or another, he needed to take Julian to a witch and have him examined. Should Julian be Jaskier under a curse or a spell, he would do everything in his power to return his friend to his former self. 

Should Julian be someone other than Jaskier…

Geralt’s stomach churned. He didn't know what he would do, but the heavy sense of foreboding he felt made him wish that he never had to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

"It's dust," the farmer deadpanned. He held the vial of wraith remains up toward the sun, continuing his examination even after stating his conclusion. The corners of his mouth reared back into a scowl. 

"It's specter dust," Julian corrected, his tone friendly and excited. It was as if he were sharing a secret with the farmer. 

Geralt huffed. He stood a house away from the scene with Roach. On the way back to the village, he and Julian had discussed how to go about retrieving their payment. Because the farmer was unaware of Geralt's involvement and people usually were far less gracious around witchers, Julian and he had decided it was best for Julian to collect payment on his own.

The farmer spat. He shoved the vial against Julian’s chest. "Dust is dust. I'm not giving away my life's savings just for some dirt. Bring back a head if you want payment."

"Excuse you! Do you even realize how valuable this dust is?" Julian held it up like a trophy. "Witches would pay gold for such an ingredient."

"Great. Sell it to them."

Julian sputtered.

Things were going nowhere fast with Julian and the farmer. If Geralt didn’t step in soon, they wouldn't be seeing any money.

Geralt stroked Roach’s neck. "Stay," he spoke low and soft.

She flicked her ears toward him. She then bent her neck to nibble on the grass by her hooves. 

Geralt marched toward the farmer's house. Julian was red faced and waving his arms as if he could gesticulate the farmer into submission. 

Jaskier certainly could have.

Geralt strolled into the farmer's yard. As he neared the man's home, the man glanced past Julian's shoulder. He dismissed Geralt for a second, then his mind registered what it hadn't before. His eyes darted back to Geralt.

Geralt strode the last few steps between him and Julian and stood directly behind Julian. "Is there a problem here?" Geralt directed his question at the farmer.

Julian whirled. His face lit up upon seeing Geralt. At first the expression was one of pure delight, but it swiftly transformed into something mischievous. "Geralt, I am so sorry." Julian threw himself on Geralt's shoulder like a child acting out a tragic scene in a play; the real tragedy was the awful acting. “I’m running into a bit of trouble getting the money we are owed.”

“ _ You _ are owed?” The farmer took in Geralt’s appearance. There was a nervousness to his gaze as his eyes lingered on Geralt’s hair and swords. If the man hadn’t figured out who Geralt was by then he knew now. 

The man put on a brave face and stood a little taller. “I only hired one man, and it was not the witcher.” 

Julian slung his arm around Geralt’s shoulder, shifting from woeful and whining to a conman with an overly friendly smile. Julian smacked Geralt on the chest as if Geralt were a sack of goods he was selling to the farmer. “Yes, but I hired him. Think of him as my consultant. Would you refuse a witcher his payment?” 

“Bah!” The farmer waved off Julian’s words. “That’s your problem. Not mine.” 

Geralt stepped into the farmer’s personal space. The man retreated a step into his house. Geralt pressed himself into the man’s door frame. He wouldn’t give the man a chance to shut the door on them. “No, it is mine. Pay the bard.”

Bafflement widened the man’s eyes and contorted his mouth. Even Julian’s face was marred with bemusement. 

Geralt played his words over again in his head. He inwardly cursed his slip up. “Pay the monster hunter.” 

“It’s dust,” the farmer tried to say with conviction, but Geralt didn’t need his advanced witcher hearing to detect the waver of uncertainty in the man’s tone. 

“Then perhaps you would like us to escort you to the abandoned village.” Geralt cocked his head as if considering something. “I would not mind spending another night underneath the stars. Would you, Julian?”

“Sounds fantastic,” Julian said. “I find it especially romantic, what with the abandoned homes of tens of villagers encircling us. I also enjoy looking at the well and remembering the wraith who attacked us. Wonderful times.” Julian aimed his widest smile at the farmer. “It really is something you should experience. Although, I suppose you will not get the joy of having a wraith attack you.”

“Or he will. Depends on if we are lying.” Geralt looked the man dead in the eye. “So what do you say? Care to join us for a night out or do you prefer to pay us and stay home?”

The farmer’s confidence shattered. His eyes darted as if looking for escape, but the only escape was a small window located at the back of his home. Even if he made a run for it, Geralt would catch him in an instant due to their proximity. 

The man slumped. “Wait one moment while I retrieve the coin.” He turned and headed toward the straw mat on the ground. 

Geralt watched the man and mentally prepared himself to give chase should the man decide at the ast second that a dash to the window was his best choice. 

The man lifted the corner of the mattress and produced a small leather pouch. He cradled the pouch in his hand. The forlorn gaze he set upon the pouch was that of a parent giving away a child. If that money truly was the man’s life’s savings, then perhaps in some roundabout way it was to him. 

Geralt did not allow himself to think about the man and his circumstance beyond that thought. To do so would cause him to hesitate in his own teachings and actions. Nothing good had ever come from that route. 

The man rose. His eyes flicked over to the window. Geralt could see the thoughts racing through the man’s mind. The man looked to Geralt and any considerations of fleeing were trampled at the reminder of who would come after him. 

Geralt held out his hand palm up. 

The man set the pouch in Geralt’s hand. He scowled. He waved Geralt away like he was batting away a fly. “Go!” 

Geralt passed the pouch to Julian. “Is the amount correct?”

Julian opened the pouch and dipped his finger inside. He swirled the coins around and counted them under his breath. Delight lit up his blue eyes as he counted the final coin. “Yup. All here.” He yanked on the pouch’s drawstrings and tied it shut. He then tucked the pouch under the heart of his doublet. “A pleasure doing business with you,” he said to the farmer. 

A noise of disgust and disbelief escaped the farmer. “Thugs.” 

“Same to you,” Julian retorted. He turned on his heel and strutted away. 

Geralt sighed and followed Julian. 

Julian stopped in front of Roach. As Geralt neared, he turned. His righteous attitude had melted away and was replaced with a radiant happiness that halted Geralt. 

Julian threw out his arms. Before Geralt’s mind could process Julian’s intent, Julian flung his arms around Geralt and squeezed him with all the strength his body possessed. “You were amazing!” Julian took a step back and fanned himself. “Also, whew! The way you took control of that situation. I don’t think I ever want to accept a contract without you again.” 

Geralt grunted. His mind was still focused on the brief hug Julian had gifted him. It had been a while since he had been embraced and so sincerely too. He didn’t realize how much he had missed it. 

Julian slipped the pouch out of his doublet. “Here. Let’s not be a horse’s ass like that son of a whore and get your payment settled.” He poured coins out into his palm and started counting them again. 

Geralt blinked and came out of his reverie. He watched Julian count the coins with disinterest. He wanted the money, but his motivations had always been more focused on Jaskier and discovering the truth about Julian. 

Julian finished counting the coins and held them out for Geralt to take. Without a word, Geralt accepted the payment and shifted the coins into his personal pouch. 

“I was thinking we head north where the coin is more plentiful and-”

“We will head South.”

Julian opened and shut his mouth. Little sounds escaped him but he struggled to find the right words. 

“There is a witch who I must speak with. After that we may head North.”

“Oh? Would she happen to be a witch for nobility?” 

Geralt scoffed. “Hardly.” 

Julian deflated with disappointment. “There are a number of witches in the North who I’m sure you could speak with.”

There were, but Geralt did not need to share that information with Julian. Because Julian was still an unknown, it would be wiser for Geralt to take charge of their journey, lest Julian have a trap set for him. 

Geralt grabbed Roach’s saddlehorn, slid his foot into the stirrup, and pulled himself onto her back. He picked up her reins and gave her a kick. 

Julian hurried out of Roach’s walking path, but didn’t go far. He kept close to her side, going at a brisk pace for a human. 

“Just tell me we are not headed to Velen,” Julian pleaded. 

“Afraid of a little swamp?” The corner of Geralt’s mouth lifted as his stomach tickled pleasantly. 

“Did you-? Are you teasing me?”

“That would be unexpected of a witcher.” 

“You are teasing me!” Julian crowed as if he’d just been awarded a medal of honor for pleasing all of the women among the royal families of the Four Kingdoms. “I think I might not even care if we go to Velen. No wait. I do. I really do. Velen is a filthy place full of death. The only people in Velen are there because they have no choice.”

“I once heard the mud in Velen works wonders for the skin.” 

“Really?” Genuine curiosity coated Julian’s tone. 

Geralt cocked his head. His eyes roved over Julian. He righted his head and looked out at the fields beyond. 

“What does that mean?” Julian demanded to know. 

“The mud would do you no good.” 

Julian gasped in offense. “You take that back right now, Geralt of Rivia or I will...I will… I will sing into the sunset.”

“I tremble with fear,” Geralt lied. In truth, he was intrigued. 

Indignation puffed Julian’s chest and sent a streak of red across his cheeks. He sucked in a deep breath. “ _ Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger _ !” 

Geralt winced.  _ That  _ was not singing. That was a bastardized banshee shriek. 

“ _ Come quell your daughter's hunger to pull on my horn _ ,” Julian strung the words together to a tune that was all his own. He screamed with each word. 

Villagers in the middle of plowing the fields and tending to cattle looked up from their work. 

Embarrassment and a healthy aversion to the attention of human’s churned in Geralt’s stomach. He kicked Roach’s sides. 

Roach picked up her pace, leaving behind Julian. 

Julian squawked — a mercy after what he called singing. 

Before Geralt could breathe a sigh of relief, Julian was jogging right beside Roach. “ _ For 'its naught but bad luck to fuck with a puck _ .” Julian gasped for breath.

Geralt stared at Julian with wide bewildered eyes. He had a handful of memories of Jaskier chasing after him and singing all the while. Each time he had been impressed with Jaskier’s tenacity and lung capacity. Now he was equally impressed with Julian. 

“ _ Lest your grandkid be born a hairy young faun. _ ” Julian’s pace slipped. He gasped for another breath. With a determined look he picked up his pace. “ _ Bleating and braying all day, hey ho! _ ”

The similarities were too much. The doubts Geralt had regarding Julian’s identity were no match for the certainty in his gut. He might be proven wrong in the end, but he couldn’t deny himself anymore. He would treat Julian as he would Jaskier. 

And if Jaskier were with him right now…

A lump formed in Geralt’s throat. There was so much that he wanted to say and he had never been good with words. 

“ _ The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba… _ ”

Julian was slowing down. His breath grew more labored with each word. 

Geralt gave a light tug to the reins and a gentle press to Roach’s sides. She slowed her pace. 

Julian jogged ahead. He shot past Roach before he realized what he was doing. He sputtered and flailed as he tried to slow himself down. He skidded to a halt with his arms thrown up. 

Perfect. 

Geralt leaned to the side and slid in his saddle. Roach neared Julian, and Geralt threw out his arm. 

“Oh!” Julian yelped as Geralt’s arm snaked around his waist. His arm closest to Geralt dropped across Geralt’s shoulders. 

With a grunt, Geralt heaved Julian off the ground and into his lap. 

Julian threw his other arm around Geralt and clung for his life. Even after he was secure on Geralt’s lap with Geralt’s arms bracketing him in place, Julian held onto Geralt. 

Julian’s hair tickled Geralt’s nose. The smell of lavender teased Geralt’s nostrils. Geralt breathed in the smell, taking in the familiar scent of Julian. His muscles relaxed as a sense of rightness filled his chest. 

“Did you just scoop me up into your arms?” Julian asked. 

Geralt grunted. 

“I thought only you rode on Roach.” 

Geralt hummed. 

“I’ve never ridden sidesaddle before.” Julian shifted in Geralt’s lap. He carefully adjusted his hold on Geralt, moving his arms away from Geralt’s neck. He kept one arm wound around Geralt’s waist. He slumped against Geralt’s chest. “I could get used to it with a man like you beside me.”

Geralt didn’t comment. He allowed himself a few seconds to enjoy the moment. 


End file.
